


Draining

by TheTimelessChild0



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Desperation, Embarrassment, Episode: 2006 Xmas The Runaway Bride, Interfering TARDIS, Urination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24108013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/TheTimelessChild0
Summary: The Doctor tries to help Donna, all while concealing abright yellowburden of his own..
Comments: 4
Kudos: 5





	Draining

The Doctor dragged his hands over his face, wiping away the tears. He took a deep breath. It felt heavy. He didn’t know why. It could be the pit of sorrow bulging from between his hearts. It could be from hunger. Occasionally, putting off that particular need came back with a _vengeance_. He turned to steer the TARDIS away from the supernova again. It had done its duty for him. 

He raised an eyebrow as the heaviness turned into a tickle, further down in his abdomen. But it didn’t feel like gas. 

Before he could notice where exactly the sensation came from, he looked up and saw a woman in a wedding dress. 

Both stared perplexed at each other. 

*******

“You can’t do that, we’re in flight..that is physically impossible!” 

The woman didn’t seem the least bit concerned that she was on something that flew, as if she hadn’t heard it at all. “WHERE AM I?!” she barked at him. 

“Inside the TARDIS,” he stated honestly. She did not like this answer. Even when he said it repeatedly. 

This was not how he wanted to forget Rose. Not through having a stranger in his ship. Certainly not while needing to pee. The need was bad enough that he wanted to at least _cross his legs_ , but he couldn’t. Not while he was being ogled by the bride. He pushed a few buttons extra hard, squeezing his thighs together when he thought she didn’t see. 

Of course, it wasn’t actually physically impossible. The TARDIS had the responsibility to keep things out. A job she usually did well. Well, one mistake was bound to happen, eventually. 

* * *

_Make that two mistakes, not counting my own,_ the Doctor noted, looking at the extremely un-churchlike buildings surrounding the TARDIS. 

He began checking the console, see what signals confused the ship. 

‘Is that _really_ your biggest _problem_ right now?’ the TARDIS reminded him, conveniently ignoring the fact that her passenger was running away. Good riddance, she reasoned. 

The Doctor gritted his teeth in frustration, crossing his legs. He scattered his head for excuses, turning to Donna. 

  
“Donna,” he started, before realising she wasn’t there. 

_Just. Great._

He caught up with her quickly. 

“That box is too...weird,” Donna complained.

“It’s bigger on the inside, that’s all,” he shrugged. _If only his bladder was…_ the Doctor put his hands in his pockets, providing some pressure. 

The conversation became a lecture in wedding dresses, ending with Donna running even further away from the TARDIS, and its available toilet. 

“I’m not from Mars,” he protested her stereotyping, grabbing himself quickly, while she had her back turned. 

***********

They managed to find a telephone, which Donna didn’t know how to use. 

“Just..call direct,” he instructed with a sigh, after sonicking the instruments. He _so_ did not have time for this.

“What did you do?” Donna asked, looking at the stick he was holding. 

“Something...Martian,” was his only available response. He ran off, squeezing himself once more, then running with tight legs. 

Somehow, even one person in front of an ATM had the ability to be really really _really_ slow. 

Even the Daleks didn’t subject him to this. They were frightfully fast when it came to attacking. 

The Doctor hoped Donna didn’t turn around while calling, or she would see him do a suspiciously exaggerated dance of impatience. Technically it was a dance of _bladder_ impatience.

* * *

Letting a stranger in wasn’t the only glitch of the TARDIS. It also wasn’t built for too much flight inside a planet’s atmosphere. Like on a motorway, for instance. 

The Doctor had his legs spread across the doorframe of the ship, as he gushed the contents of a fire extinguisher into the humongous space. 

_Arrgh..don’t think of gushing,_ the Doctor tried to turn his thoughts to something else, which ended up being the urine that was intermittently leaking out of him. 

He clenched, tightly, with his fist, looking down. Not much of a mark, at least not on the lighter portions of his trousers. He resigned to just using the sonic once he dropped her off. 

Donna was thinking about her fiancee, Lance. She’d tried not to, but as her new Martian friend was wiggling about, hitting the sharper, uncomfortable parts of the ledge every time, like he had no sense of direction..she needed a distraction. She wanted to wince every time he looked satisfied at his choice of seat surface.

* * *

The Doctor did a little hop behind Donna, scouring the party location for signs to the loo. 

In the end, he followed a waiter, to the back of the building. 

He managed to find the toilet, but..it was occupied. Not only that but someone was urinating furiously inside. The Doctor hunched over, groaning with both hands in his crotch. 

He hurried away before anyone could see him. He also didn’t want any of the guests to notice he was gone. Least of all Donna. She knew he was an alien, and Martian or not, he’d prefer to continue pretending that he was as inhuman as humanly possible. He had to walk very stiffly, but the music distracted him sufficiently. 

************

The Doctor had to focus on the Racnoss screaming, focus on the flames..and not on the gallons of water spewing from every direction. It couldn’t be allowed to spew from _him_ . Especially since it wasn't water...

As helpful as it was, he was secretly grateful to have an excuse to leave the room, far far _far_ away from the overly inspiring imagery. 

“We’ve drained the Thames” Donna gasped in disbelief. 

_If only I could’ve drained my_ **_bladder_ ** _, I could refill some of it,_ the Doctor thought bitterly.

* * *

Making it snow from the TARDIS did not have its desired effect. Worse, it made her invite him to dinner. Now, he may be starving, he honestly wasn’t sure with the little room he had in his abdomen..but only one thing was on his mind at that moment: going to the toilet. In the TARDIS. 

“I just have to..” the Doctor began, intending to make up a story about parking the box, when said box shut its doors in his face and whooshed away. 

“Park her,” he finished weakly. “Right, lead the way then,” he plastered a fake smile on his face. 

The Doctor really wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend that he wasn’t bursting for the facilities, but he clenched his jaw and swallowed his anxiety all the same. 

_He really does look peaky,_ Donna worried internally. They opened the door and was greeted by a disappointed Sylvia and a surprised Wilfred. 

“What are _you_ doing here again?” she sneered at him. 

_There we go again, another disgruntled mother,_ the Doctor rolled his eyes. 

“Hush now, darling, don’t leave them out in the cold,” Wilfred chastised, beckoning them both inside, and hugging them in turn. 

The younger man didn’t know if it was the cold, or awkwardness but he didn’t miss the stiffness that the other man showed. 

“How long have you been out there? You’ve given him a cold, Donna!” he patted the Doctor’s cheek, wiping away the sweat. 

Unbeknownst to him, this sweat wasn’t from temperature compensation; the Time Lord in question was only 20 degrees warmer than the outside. It was from every single muscle nearly _vibrating_ against the pressure of his full bladder. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I don’t get sick that easily,” the Doctor reassured him, bouncing on his heels, observing the house. 

Once Donna was finished giving the abridged version of events, sans Martian, and sans Time Lord(obviously), Wilf insisted that he have a cup of tea. None of his objections to this was listened to. 

***

The Doctor couldn’t help but rub his thighs vigorously, sipping his tea in microscopic increments. Eventually, his bladder made it crystal clear that he needed to move. Somewhere, _anywhere!_ He jumped up, and leaned on the arm of the sofa for some support. 

  
“I’m..I’m gonna go see if the food’s ready,” he lied, taking a step towards the door. 

At this point, Wilf had figured out what was wrong, which wasn’t illness. It made perfect _sense_ , with how long Donna said they’d been out, and how long they’d known each other..

“That’s no use, Doctor,” he assured the “younger” man. “I was actually thinking of showing you some old medallions I got fighting in the Middle East. Come on, they’re right up here,” Wilfred pulled on his arm, smiling excitedly. 

The Doctor would’ve sighed if he was able to.

“Are they in the attic?” he couldn’t help asking, as they reached the top of the stairs. 

“Nope, they’re...in here,” Wilf pointed out the door, smiling kindly at him. The door in question, was the bathroom. 

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” the Doctor dismissed him, blushing.

“Your arms 're shaking like crisp leaves in September, mister. I may be old, but I’m not blind,” Wilf chuckled. “You don’t have to be ashamed you know..I think it’s _sweet_ , wanting to keep that from a  lady,” he remarked.

That wasn’t the _only_ reason why he’d hidden it, certainly not for so long..but the Doctor just gave him a resigned nod of admittance. 

  
“The food will be ready by the time you come back down, and not a minute before,” Mott instructed, shuffling downstairs as fast as his hip allowed. 

While he could theoretically stay up there for a few minutes, and came down with some elaborate explanation of why he’d gone already, and _when_ , there was no conceivable reason to. Also, the Doctor had had enough. He could end up losing control at the dinner table if he didn’t go now.

Just that potential scenario, was enough to put his hand on the door handle and convincing him to step inside. He hurried to the toilet, getting off everything standing between him and emptying himself. 

Once he was aimed correctly, he barely had time to think about running water, before it gushed out of him. And now, he could remember the gushing…

He didn’t even bother to worry about how long he was going, compared to a human. They could draw their own conclusions.

The Doctor let out several pants of relief, as the stream dribbled to a halt. 

After washing his hands, he stretched to relax all the previously tense muscles, without touching them directly. He didn't neglect to clean up the specks of urine on his trousers, however. Luckily he didn't have to merely use his sonic, which was a _blessing_...

* * *

Donna sat next to him at the table, smiling at him. “I wondered when you were gonna go, it’s been hours,” she couldn’t help noting. 

The Doctor looked down, fighting off yet another blush. It always puzzled him how merely having a smaller bladder than his own, made the species take such a straightforward approach, when it came to the subject. 

“Well, you know me, Donna. I’m as human as you are” he shrugged and winked at her. Of course, she knew he wasn’t, at all. 

At least now, she could get some fluids into his thin frame, she thought happily. He really was _way_ too peaky. 

The End.


End file.
